


Three Times Jack Introduces Himself In the MCU

by jenphalian



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenphalian/pseuds/jenphalian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some crack that was rattling around in my head, regarding a possible means to get Bucky off the street and into therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Jack Introduces Himself In the MCU

Steve decided the bar had been nicer earlier in the day, with the sun coming through the big open windows and the cutie behind the bar making eyes at him through the doldrums of the afternoon shift. Now it was filling up, with wretchedly adorable couples and Brooklyn hipsters being seen to have fun after they left their start-up offices. Steve sighed and knocked back the second half of his fifteenth manhattan. He was waiting for his tab and wishing for the millionth time that drinking helped him forget when the guy in the coat came up, all smiles and swish.

"Hi. Captain Jack Harkness." The guy stuck his hand out and politeness kicked in. Steve shook it.

"Hi. I'm Steve, and I'm already 100% sick of your shit." Okay, so maybe not politeness. Maybe this guy was really irritating and Steve could sure go for a fistfight anyway.

"Oh, now, that's not very nice."

"What's that coat, RAF? You earn that 'Captain' the hard way, son?"

"Son? Really?"

"I'm a little older than I look." Steve slid off the barstool and drew himself up to his full height, peeling off his own leather bomber.

"Bet I've got you beat," said Jack, still smiling hugely like a jerk, and then he grabbed two bright blue shots off the tray of a passing server, pounded them both, set the glasses on the bar, and threw the first punch.

 _Woah_ , thought Steve. _That actually hurt._  And then he didn't hold back even a little.

***

They made it outside and around the corner before the cops got there, but just barely, and then they ran until they were on a deserted street that felt more like an alley, dark brick buildings all around them. Jack leaned up against one and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

"Winded, son?"

"Not... even... a little."

Steve leaned against the wall next to him. "Sure. Well, you've got a decent left hook, anyway. Still feeling it." He rubbed his jaw. "What branch are you, really?"

"Time Agency, 51st century."

"Fine, then, don't tell me." Steve looked the guy over. He was still irritating, but there was definitely something about him. So, what the hell, right? "Captain Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Jack." He stuck out his hand. Jack looked up and quirked his eyebrows in adorable surprise.

"THE Captain Steve Rogers?"

Steve nodded. Jack took his hand, shook it. "Huh. It's an honor, Captain." He didn't let go. "I've still got you beat, though."

Steve looked down at their clasped hands and stepped a little closer. "That so?"

Jack winked, then tugged on Steve's hand to pull him closer, and then they were kissing, up against the brick wall. Jack's mouth was demanding, his chest was solid, and his hand--

"Hey now!"

"I hope your place is near here, Captain Tightpants."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm about to put you in some very compromising positions, and I just bet you'd rather do it indoors."

Steve considered this for a moment. Jack's eye actually twinkled.

" _On va voir._ "

***

The relentless knocking on Steve's front door turned out to be a very grumpy Hawkeye.

"Late night, Kate?"

"Stuff it, Cap."

"Want to come in? I'll make coffee."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just dropping off your stupid jacket. You left it at the Russian Mafia front I was watching, after your little foreplay maneuver cost me my whole op."

"Oh. Uh... thanks." He took the jacket and hung it on the coatrack next to the door without looking. "But it wasn't... I mean, it was just a fight." Kate was giving him a Look now. "I mean, uh, sorry about your op."

With literally the worst timing, a voice came out of the bedroom. "Hey, this shield is really heavy!"

Steve tied his robe a little tighter, and looked over his shoulder, ready to yell at Jack to put the shield DOWN, no one gets to touch the shield, but he was already out of the bedroom and if he put it down now, this issue was going to get censored like woah. Steve settled for asking, "really, Jack?"

Now Kate was laughing. "Not foreplay, huh?"

Jack turned his dazzling smile on her. "Hi, Captain Jack Harkn--"

"Stop it," Steve warned, and then couldn't figure out why Jack looked so sad.

"Yeah, I'll just leave you to it," Kate was saying. "But thanks for this!" She waved her cellphone under Steve's nose, a perfect shot of Jack holding the shield plastered across it. He wasn't even holding it that low, how did she--

"Hey, that better not show up on Instagram," Steve yelled down the hall at her back.

***

It happened like this a lot. One of them wouldn't be able to sleep, and they hated waking each other up for ghosts from their pasts, so the window that opened on the fire escape was well-oiled.

Tonight it was Steve, haunted by a face, dark-eyed and smiling through the sadness like Jack's got sometimes. That face next to him, punching Nazis. Slipping silently through French forests. Falling from a train. Falling, his face locked in a rictus of fear and betrayal.

That same face, darker and colder, in a new and even more horrifying rictus of recognition, but this time Steve was the one falling.

How many times did he have to live through the end of the line?

A white mug appeared in front of him, held by an arm sticking through the window. Steve accepted the tea, cream with one lump, and Jack climbed out and sat next to him.

"Couldn't sleep either, mate. Want to tell me about it?"

Steve looked down at the steaming tea for strength and started talking.

***

Fall had set in for real, and the chill breeze and early sunsets had finally driven most of the crowds away from the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. The blond hunk in the ballcap and bomber jacket sitting on a bench by the statue of Senator Roscoe Conkling was eating alone. The assassin didn't even bother to use cover, just pointed the barrel and shot through the pocket of his hoodie, and a perfectly-seasoned burger fell to the ground while blood blossomed on a shirt stretched over a dorito-shaped torso.

The assassin stepped closer, watched him die. "Mission accomplished," he whispered, a single tear tracking angstily down his cheek. And then of course a thin rain began to fall.

And then the dead man coughed.

"What?" asked the assassin. "But you're dead!"

"I was," said the mark, "and now I'm not. Cool, right?" Now that he was talking and the assassin could see his face, he could tell this wasn't the right guy. How could this have happened? He had followed him straight from his apartment to here.

"You know, the hardest part about playing Steve is the hair. It just doesn't look right on me, even under a hat." The assassin just stood there, eyes getting wider, nostrils flaring, while the dead man stood up and got closer to him. He kept up a soothing patter, didn't make any sudden moves. "And the shoulder pads, really, Natasha could have spared me that indignity. I am pretty buff on my own, you know. But look at you! I can't wait to get you out shopping. Those clothes are just--did you know you look like a sad trash hobo? But don't worry, I'll introduce you to my tailor right off, she's amazing."

"Who... are you?" the assassin finally asked, his voice creaking, unused to speaking to anyone.

The not-dead-anymore guy took out a handkerchief and wiped some blood off his fingers before sticking out his hand. "Hi, Captain Jack Harkness. And you're Bucky. Now shake my hand and let's get you somewhere safe."

"But... but I have a mission."

"Yeah. He's waiting for you." Jack put an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the street. Another assassin, with red hair and a deep and abiding interest in Steve's new boyfriend's pet project, waited in the driver's seat of a cab, keeping it running for them.


End file.
